


Like a Queer Hutterite

by gala_apples



Category: Macdonald Hall - Gordon Korman
Genre: Friendship, M/M, Outing, POV Outsider
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-18
Updated: 2016-12-18
Packaged: 2018-09-09 11:05:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8888440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gala_apples/pseuds/gala_apples
Summary: For thirty six hours Larry is the man with the crazy plan, the man starting the riot. It's just long enough to be happy to hand the reins back.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [remrose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/remrose/gifts).



Larry first hears only that something is going in with Bruno and Boots. Literally those words; “something going on.” Larry nearly laughs at the little second year he hears it from. Sure the kid knows enough to report news about the kings of the school, but apparently not enough to clarify. Saying something is happening is like saying Coach Flynn wears shorts that are too short, or that Snappy Wappies taste like cardboard. Facts so obvious they go without saying.

There’s not time for much more gossip beyond that. Sure if he tracked down a senior they’d probably know, but he has stuff to do. Larry’s a poor kid, a subsidized attendee of Macdonald Hall, and that means paying in other ways. Lucky for him it’s just basic office work. So easy a twelve year old could do it. So easy he did do it at twelve. Not that he’s complaining. Better to file and transport than mow lawns or do dishes. Besides, even if he _was_ a soapy or outdoorsy kind of person, the administration needs to leave something as punishment. The system of lines and demerits worked for less than a semester before it was back to good old fashioned back breaking labour with a side of tedium.

The second thing he hears is from the guys themselves. Larry’s been working for maybe forty five minutes when Bruno and Boots trudge into the office in the wake of Fudge. Fairly heavy artillery, in Fish-speak. Larry’s the norm when it comes to students messing up and needing punishment. Fudge is mostly for hard cases; emotional crises, like deaths in the family, or walking the line of expulsion. Sending Mrs. Sturgeon as escort is about the only thing worse than the dorm-father. 

Fudge gives Bruno and Boots each a hearty clap on the shoulder blade and exits. They stand there, oddly uncertain. Larry’s seen them swing around for punishments about a thousand times, usually they know exactly where to sit, and they’re lightly joking as they do. 

Larry doesn’t immediately deliver Boots and Bruno into the inner office. Partially because Mr Sturgeon hasn’t requested him to, and after five plus years Larry knows how to follow minute details. Partially because he wants to find out what the deal is and he can’t do that if they’re behind the intimidating oak door.

“Changing the world and you didn’t invite any of your friends?”

“Oh, we changed the world alright,” Boots sighs.

“I like to think it was a good change,” Bruno argues. 

The standard realism vs bombast just makes Larry all the more excited. If an idea of Bruno’s has made Boots uncomfortable, that just means they’re in for a good time. He can almost smell the tang of Chris’ copic markers on poster board already.

Mr Sturgeon’s call for them to enter comes before Larry has pried out the truth. Slightly disappointed, but confident that he’ll find out sooner or later, he shoes them in. neither shuts the door, an act that the Headmaster prefers, so Larry goes to do so. Except why wait for sooner when he can just overhear it now? Is it really a violation of privacy if he’s going to hear the whole story at midnight by flashlight?

With the door cracked just a little, Larry listens. What he hears is not remotely what he was expecting to hear. There’s no prank war, or attempt to get on the Chutley news again. Instead apparently the Blabbermouth has spread a rumour about Bruno and Boots kissing. It sounds insane. It really does. Everyone at Macdonald Hall knows Boots is going to wind up marrying Cathy, as Bruno marries Diane, both of them with the female counterparts of their best friends. There’s even been drunken joking speculation about how death-defying and law-breaking the honeymoons will be. The thing about the Blabbermouth is, though, that he doesn’t lie. Viciously tattle about things you’d never tell a soul you’ve done, yes. Lie? No. If he says he saw them, he saw them.

The next part of the interrogation is inevitable. Bruno can’t lie to the Fish. He’s never once been able to do it. No matter what hijinx have transpired, no matter how large the kitchen duty on the line, Bruno and Boots don’t lie to Mr Sturgeon. Even now, with so much on the line, the agreement comes out of his mouth. “Yes, we are dating.”

In the tinted glass of the window, Larry can see The Fish nodding gravely. “You’ll find we have a zero tolerance policy, and Mr Blankenship has come perilously close to crossing that line by outing you. Inform me of any more harassment at once.”

Bruno nods. Larry thinks his outing is mostly his own fault for kissing Boots where the Blabbermouth could see, but still. It’s nice to know that Macdonald Hall has got the back of a student who’s had the back of Macdonald Hall more than any other student in history.

“You’ll also find that there is a rule set up for cases such as yours. You and Mr O’Neal will no longer be permitted to be roommates.”

Or not. Apparently Macdonald Hall only has his back so they can jam a knife through it. Bruno’s mind is visibly racing. It’s a look Larry has seen a hundred times over the years. “What if Melvin and I break up?”

“You’d like me to believe that you and Mr O’Neal will call off your relationship and remain in the same room, happy yet chaste? Mr Walton, I am truly sorry. I wish your relationship all the luck in the world. But I simply cannot promote sex within the walls of this school.”

“We- We understand, sir,” Boots says quietly.

Why isn’t Bruno protesting? Boots Larry can understand accepting discipline, he’s built that way. But Bruno should be on his feet, shouting right now. Larry’s gripping the door handle so tightly, so intent on the scene, that he doesn’t realise before it’s too late that his tension has made the oak plank move slightly. 

“Mr Wilson, since you seem oh so interested in the goings on of Mr Walton and Mr ONeal, I’m sure you’ll be the first to volunteer to share a room.”

That’s what he gets for flying too close to the sun. Fucking plummeting to the ground with searing hot wax pouring over him. Larry gulps and opens the office door the rest of the way. “Yes, sir.”

“Larry, you’ll be rooming in 337 with Mr Walton.” Oh fuck. He got the worse of the two. Being beside the life of the party is fun until two am. Then you just want to get some sleep.

“Mr ONeal, your new assignment will be 284, with Sven Bainbridge.”

“Who the fuck is that?!” Bruno blurts out. He immediately follows with covering his mouth with his hand, but it’s a little too late.

“Mr Walton, please refrain from cursing directly in front of me. Boys, I expect you in the proper rooms by lights out.”

It’s an unstated cue for them to get out now. Larry leads the melancholic charge, out of the Headmaster’s office, out of the rest of the admin area, until they’re at the doors that lead to the rest of the campus.

“We’ll be okay,” Bruno says. His eyes are suspiciously red, though he’s not crying yet.

“Yeah,” Boots says. His fingers are balled into fists.

Larry says nothing. It’s not his place.

It takes about an hour to move all his stuff from his compact but very personalised single to the double he’s going to be stuck in. A good two thirds of that time is spent tracking down Wilbur and cycling through the four food groups until he finds a bribe the man will accept. It’s worth the time spent though. A guy who can lift a piano by himself for a talent show is a guy who can carry multiple pillowcases jammed with shit in one trip. 

The minute his bags are ceremoniously dumped in his new dorm room Larry knows he has too much. He can’t really picture Bruno taping the room exactly in half -as far as he knows, it only happened the one time he was punishing Boots for being on Wizzle’s side- but it would be rude to just leave his stuff lying everywhere. What’s his alternative though? Leaving all his stuff in the hallway? More stressed than moving in should account for, Larry paces.

Bruno storms in five minutes before lights out. Granted, school rules such as curfew have really never meant anything to the guy. It’s still not an auspicious start. Larry watches silently as Bruno slams the door shut so hard that the light sconce moves a centimetre. Good thing he hadn’t hung up his framed poster yet, or it would’ve been splintered glass on the ground.

“What kind of a-hole is named Sven? I mean, I’m sorry, but really.”

“Is this going to turn into a newsletter of hate about Sven? Because a thirty year old teacher is one thing, but a guy our age feels a lot like bullying.”

Bruno crosses his arms. The stance doesn’t last long before he’s emphatically gesturing again. “It doesn’t count if I don’t rally others to it. It’s just a stupid prick name. And _Bainbridge_. If you’re going Sven, at least be balls to the wall and be a Sven Leif or Ragnar or something.”

Larry refrains from mentioning that people don’t generally pick their last names. He doesn’t think it’d help.

“Oh hell,” Bruno droops. He opens the door again and, with a level of resignation Larry’s never seen on a human being before, brings in his stuff. Like Larry’s, the bags land on the floor, rather than being put away properly.

He has to ask. He has to know, just to prepare himself. Also, if he shows himself unwilling to be a clueless victim, maybe it’ll save him. “Is this going to be like Elmer and George again?”

“What?”

“Remember, second year? Mr Sturgeon decided enough, that you’d be better off separated, and so you decided to harass the two of them until everyone else decided that the world was better off with you two together? I just feel like I have the right to know if I’m collateral damage.”

Bruno shakes his head. “That was kid stuff. They’ll never put us back together. It’s beyond that now.”

“So if not harass the roomie into complain, what’s next? Do you want to brainstorm? I know I’m not a Boots level sounding board, but I’ll do my best.”

Bruno doesn’t answer. In fact, he does the exact opposite of engaging. He lies down on his bed, fully clothed, and from what Larry can see without being overly creepy with his peering, stares directly at the gross popcorn ceiling this dorm has.

At ten Larry turns the lights off. He lies awake for hours, listening for the sounds of Bruno sneaking out to go meet Boots, whether it be out the window to their claimed meeting spot of the cannon, or through the door to a moonlit meeting in the rec hall. Nothing. Bruno doesn’t leave. He doesn’t go to meet Boots, and Larry can only keep his eyes open so long.

***

Bruno and Boots aren’t reacting well. Okay, it’s not like Larry expected them to be chipper and pleasant about being forcibly separated, but they’re not reacting poorly in the right way. There should be riots, right now. Where are the cops, and the hot air balloons and the exploding dishwashers? Instead it’s just silence, neither acknowledging the other. They don’t even eat lunch together. It’s awful.

What’s worse is Bruno following Larry to 337 directly after class. Larry only wants to work on an English essay. He’s always been the get it done early type. He scatters his materials -clipboard, pens, post-its, licorice- across his bed and settles in for the long haul. The tension is high with Bruno sitting on his own bed, sulking, but Larry is determined to work through it. 

Pretty much immediately that no longer becomes an option. It’s been less than five minutes since the end of last class when Boots bursts in, nearly as dramatically as Bruno did last night. There’s no earthquakian door slam, but he does begin shouting. “Where the hell were you last night?”

“In my new room.”

“You didn’t come see me!”

“You didn’t exactly venture out either,” Bruno notes sourly.

“You’re always the make the first move guy.”

“Well, I think we need to stop making moves. I meant what I said.”

There’s a few-second silence that’s utterly hideous. The kind of silence that could make walls bleed. Larry doesn’t know what Boots’ response will be, but he knows in his soul it isn’t going to be good.

When Boots speaks up his voice is desolate, absolutely broken. “You’d break up with me just like that?”

“Only to stay together. The Fish won’t tell our parents if we don’t do anything to tell them about.”

“This is- This is so _stupid_ , Bruno. I can’t-” Boots cuts himself off for the second time, and walks out.

Larry sees Bruno sitting hunched on his bed and has to make it better. “We can fix this, Bruno. Really. We’ll make a gay-straight coalition, and-”

“No. No coalitions, or alliances, or leagues. This isn’t something we can fix like that.”

“But-”

“Screw this, I’m going to Cathy’s.” With that one sentence Bruno crosses the room and hauls up the window with a shriek of unused tracks. He plants his legs up on the sill and jumps out the window. He doesn’t say when he’ll be back. Larry wonders for a minute if Bruno used to extend that courtesy to Boots, then dismisses it as stupid. They would have gone together.

Larry is dismayed beyond belief. How could Bruno Walton of all people not see the good a committee could do here? It’s like a priest saying there’s no point for prayer, or Miss Scrimmage saying there’s no point in a shotgun. Bizarre and out of character to the point of upsetting. Well, Larry’s not going to let it stand. He’s going to throw bibles at priests. He’s going to give Scrimmage some shells. He’s going to restore the sanctity of Bruno Walton himself, goddamn it! He leaps to his feet, so full of gusto he has to move or he’ll burst. Then sits again, sheepishly, when he realises he doesn’t actually have a plan. Gusto’s better served when there’s something to aim it at.

Ten minutes later Larry changes his mind. The time for enthusiasm _is_ now. No he doesn’t know what he’s going to do yet, but he’s hardly channeling Bruno if he waits until he has it all figured out.

Just to do something, he goes and finds Elmer. He explains the need to collect the normal group, and five others each besides that. Elmer grasps the order, and puts his experiment on pause to join him in tracking down the regulars. By dinner time Larry’s got fifty people crammed into the balcony of the rec room.

“Can we make this quick? I heard they’re making turkey and gravy tonight,” Wilbur demands.

Larry gathers everyone’s attention with a wordless shout and loud clap of hands. “At the risk of sounding like Bruno, our world is crumbling around us.”

“You definitely sound like Bruno,” Sidney states.

“Well, someone has to,” Larry replies. “He’s not himself anymore.”

“What, just ‘cause he’s gay? That’s pretty homophobic dude.”

“Pretty sure that taking it up the butt doesn’t make him less chaos incarnate.”

“Didn’t he date Diane? So that makes him bi.”

“Okay, nitpicker. Larry shouldn’t be homophobic about Bruno being bi either.”

Larry shakes his head. He raises his voice to be heard over all the chatter. “You’ve got it all wrong. We need to start a committee.”

Half the group look confused, but the inner circle is nodding. 

“A committee or a coalition?” Sidney asks.

“Should I go sprint and get Cathy, maybe Diane and Wilma and Mary Lou?” Chris asks. Elmer smiles at the mention of his girlfriend.

Larry ponders that for a second. “For now I think committee’s fine. But we’re kidding ourselves if we don’t think Cathy will find out and figure out how to make the best of plans wild and messy.”

“I don’t understand? Why a committee?”

Larry doesn’t know the name of the guy questioning this, only recognises his face from the hockey team. There’s actually quite a few members of the hockey team here. More than would be a statistical average. Maybe one of the inner circle just busted in on a practice and brought everyone who would listen.

“After all the things Bruno’s done for us, we owe him.” Wilbur says firmly.

“What things?”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“No?”

“You remember the Lines Department, right? And have you been in our rec hall? Actually, do you even go here? Bruno invested money in one of Smythe’s stocks a few years ago. Without that multiplied fundraising money we wouldn’t even have a school.”

The guy just blinks. Larry starts to wonder if he’s got brain damage from too much checking. Then a buddy elbows him. “Bruno spiked the punch at the last ScrimDance.”

“Oh, that guy’s awesome.”

“So you called a bunch of us to make sure things are cool for him, even though he’s ...whatever?”

Hockey Goon Four frowns. “I get that you figure we’re the most likely to be homophobes, being jocks, and you wanted to talk us out of it. But fuck that noise, man. Like we all didn’t think they’d marry twins and share a house as a group. Leaving out the girls isn’t that far of a leap. I don’t fuckin’ care, and I don’t think anyone else on the Macs does either. Right?”

Larry is grateful to hear a ringing chorus of agreement, despite Goon Four having misread his motivations.

“So I’m looking for ideas. If they won’t help themselves, we will.”

“First step has to be making Myron regret outing them, right?”

“The Beast will tear him limb from limb!” Calvin growls.

“That’s nice,” Goon Three says dismissively. “But yeah, we’ll mess up Blabbermouth.” The rest of the hockey team agrees.

“Nice. Anyone else?”

“Shouldn’t we ask them what they want?”

Larry sighs. “I tried. Bruno told me he didn’t want to start a gay-straight coalition. Tell me he’s in his right mind right now.”

“Did you talk to Boots?”

“No, they’re fighting.” It really goes to show the extent that Bruno and Boots rule Macdonald Hall that the reply is met by a wince on at least half the faces in the room. The only one to say anything is Mark, who asks how exactly they were fighting. Unsurprising, since he’s journalist to the core. Trusting the information to this group of people, Larry summarizes the argument he was witness to.

“He’s kind of like a queer Hutterite,” Pete is the first to comment, with a complete non sequitur.

“What?”

“No he’s not.”

“Since when is Bruno religious?”

“I think Boots is Jewish.”

“No he’s not.”

“He had those curly sideburns once.”

“Those are called peyot you moron-”

“He only had them because Diane attacked him with a curling iron.”

“-and they’re only for orthodox Jews. If he was that hardcore he wouldn’t even go here. ”

“Pete!” Larry shouts over everyone. “Were you trying to make a point?” Sometimes he’s just an idiot, but sometimes he’s an idiot savant. He might have a real contribution here.

“I had to do a paper on Hutterites, and think about it. Male dominated society, very insulated-”

“Do you mean insular?”

“Whatever. Community, where everyone shares everything, and they have their own version of democracy that outsiders don’t factor into. Very particular customs and rituals. Sure theirs are religious things and ours are pranks and riots, but it still counts. So when you’re the gay one, the one who stands out, it’s super scary. You might be kicked out of the group that you’ve created your entire personality around. Bruno doesn’t really want to break up with Boots. Not really. He’s just a queer Hutterite.”

Wilbur makes a face. “I can’t tell if that’s a good analogy, or completely stupid.”

“So if it is a community thing, how about we make them feel safe, like they can fit in? How about we put up pride flags? Chris draws, and I make a ton of copies.”

“That sounds nice, a show of solidarity, but could they do more?”

“What do you mean?”

As Martin goes on, Larry reflect that no, he doesn’t make a great replacement Bruno. He doesn’t have the oomph. But thanks to his years of office work, he can delegate like a champ.

***

Boots approaches him in the cafeteria. “Has Bruno talked to you about a committee?”

“Uh, you could talk to him?” Look at him, matchmaking them into a conversation. Larry’s rather pleased with himself.

“Probably not yet. But seriously, has he?”

“Why do you ask?” Larry deftly evades a concrete answer.

“Because half the rooms in my dorm have a rainbow flag.”

“That was Martin Trimble’s idea. They’re safe spaces. Anywhere you see one, the occupants have given permission for you and Bruno to come in for a private moment. Talking, or kissing, or, you know... Whatever. Operation House Is A Home, we’re calling it. If you don’t have your room to be together in, we can make the whole school your room.”

Boots crosses his arms tightly over his chest. “He broke up with me.”

“No he didn’t. Bruno’s number one important thing is community. This community. You know that. He hates when things change, views it all as a threat. He wants his friends around as much as possible. He wants you _all the time_. Objectively speaking, not taking sides, he does get to spend much more time with you if you’re just friends and can be in the same room. Plus you’re not outed even more than you already were.”

“He knows Edward knows,” Boots says. In Larry’s opinion, he’s completely missing the point.

“What he knows is that he loves you, and will sacrifice the sexy part of that love to get the side by side part. So convince him he can have the community and the individual. Be a leader, dude.”

Larry isn’t usually one for tried-tested-and-true advice. There’s a reason he’s a office messenger, not a guidance messenger. He’s still proud when Boots takes his advice and makes a beeline for where Bruno is sitting by himself eating a sandwich. Boots puts a hand on his shoulder and Bruno violently shrugs it off. A few beats later and Boots give it a second attempt. Bruno stands to avoid it, and Boots goes after him. It’s quite the show, despite the rest of the cafeteria backing up to give them space and consequently taking themselves out of hearing range. Larry and seven hundred other guys watch as they progress from standing close and talking, to holding hands, to a kiss reuniting them. 

This might be the last chance Larry has to play the role of Bruno. A relief, for the most part, because he’s not that guy. Still, he wants to get a bit more of it in. Watching for the plates he climbs up onto the table and bursts into a lung shuddering bellow of a song. “For they’re jolly good boyfriends, for they’re jolly good boyfriends, for they’re jolly good boyfriends, which nobody can deny!”

As Larry starts on the second round of it, there’s a progressively deafening roar in his ear. One by one, the vast majority of Macdonald Hall is screaming along with him. It’s deliciously intense, the reason they all follow Bruno every time he starts shit. Hell, the emotion of the crowd might even provoke a riot. How great would that be?

Huh. Turns out you can be a queer Hutterite. He’ll have to tell Pete, if the guy hasn’t already figured it out.


End file.
